


these little wonders still remain

by tattooedsiren



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooedsiren/pseuds/tattooedsiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey wakes with the salty sea air tickling his exposed skin. The sound of the ocean waves rolling gently onto the shore is a hypnotic noise he can't shake. It's so different to the sounds he's used to - Mike padding around the apartment or showering in the en suite, the sounds of the city that occasionally filter through their windows, or the utter silence that is only broken by Mike's breathing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	these little wonders still remain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mander3_swish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mander3_swish/gifts).



> Written for the lovely mander3_swish, based on one of the prompts she sent me, for the fandomaid Typhoon Haiyan appeal. Thanks for donating, thank you so much for you patience, and I hope you enjoy this. :O)
> 
> Title comes from Little Wonders by Rob Thomas.

Harvey wakes with the salty sea air tickling his exposed skin. The sound of the ocean waves rolling gently onto the shore is a hypnotic noise he can't shake. It's so different to the sounds he's used to - Mike padding around the apartment or showering in the en suite, the sounds of the city that occasionally filter through their windows, or the utter silence that is only broken by Mike's breathing - and it's slightly surreal but amazingly soothing. He stretches languidly in the bed, and once he realizes he's alone, he opens his eyes and lifts his head from where it's buried in his soft white pillow to look around the room, searching for Mike.

The room - well, house really, the place they're staying in is mostly one large open plan room, with the front wall actually made up of glass doors, which are currently open, sheer sea green curtains fluttering in the breeze - is empty, but Harvey knows Mike can't be far. He's probably out swimming, floating in the cool water, eyes closed, peaceful. Harvey briefly considers joining him, but the bed is comfortable, cotton sheets covering his naked body to his lower back, the light breeze swirling in the house calming rather than annoying.

Harvey is half asleep again by the time Mike returns. Harvey's stretched across the bed, still on his stomach, his face now pressed into Mike's pillow, inhaling his scent with every intake of breath. Mike moving around the house is all idle noise until something breaks through, something new and noteworthy. It rouses Harvey's mind, and he blinks, confused, as the soft sounds of something melodic - is that a ukulele? - float across the air.

He turns, half twisted in the sheets, and through the sheer gauze of the curtains he can see the outline of Mike, lounging on the chaise out on the patio area, strumming at the instrument. Well, he starts off strumming, but it soon turns into actual music. Harvey doesn't recognize the song, but it's definitely deliberate and not just random notes, and Harvey falls in love all over again.

Wrapping the sheet around his hips after getting up off the bed, Harvey crosses the relatively small but perfectly proportioned room to the doors, and Mike smiles up at him, says, "Good morning."

Harvey smiles in return, leaning down and kissing Mike, deep and languid, before Mike shifts over slightly to make room for him on the chaise. Harvey sits down beside him, uncaring about his state of undress (the house they've rented may be small but it did come with a patch of near deserted beach, so he's not worried about being seen). Mike's skin where their arms brush together is still damp, so Harvey must've been right about Mike going for a morning swim.

"Sleep well?" Mike asks, grinning like he already knows the answer.

Which he does, because Harvey hasn't slept past nine since, well, forever. "Yes, thank you. Enjoy your swim?"

"Would've enjoyed it more if you were there," Mike tells him.

"Next time."

Mike nods, and as Harvey relaxes back into the chaise Mike starts strumming the ukulele again. It's not Mike's - Harvey definitely would've noticed it at least once before during their one year of dating and the two years of working relationship/friendship/denying that they were crazy in love with each other that came before that - so Harvey can only assume it was one of the many random objects and knickknacks that came with the house.

"I didn't know you could play," Harvey says, nodding to the instrument, trying to keep the surprise out of his tone.

Mike shrugs. "I can't, not really. Grammy tried to teach me the guitar when I was a kid. I'd begged her to teach me how to play a particular song, but of course she insisted I know about the basics of the instrument and how to read notes and play scales. Once I learned how to play the song I wanted I moved on to a new obsession, but I guess the basics stuck with me anyway."

There's that sweet sadness in Mike's voice, the small smile he always has whenever he talks about his grandmother. Two years later and it still hurts Mike, losing the last of his family. It was a loss that could never be replaced, although Harvey will never forget when, a few months back, they'd been talking about Grammy and he told Mike how happy he was that he got to meet the last of Mike's family and Mike had replied with _I'm glad you met her too, but she wasn't the last of my family - you're my family, Harvey._

"So what song did you want to learn?" Harvey asks with a smirk.

Mike laughs. "I'll never tell."

Harvey chuckles along. He doesn't mind not knowing, because he's certain he'll find out sooner or later, whether it's weeks or months or years from now. It's something this holiday has thrown into sharp relief for Harvey. He loves this man, deeply and with every fiber of his being, and he wouldn't hesitate to say that he knows Mike better than anyone, the way that Mike knows him better than anyone. But they still don't know _everything_ about each other.

When they were sitting on the plane, waiting for the flight to take off, Mike was practically vibrating out of his skin beside him, his excitement and glee palpable. When he commented on it, Mike's reply was, "And what exactly about my upbringing screams seasoned traveler?"

It was an interesting moment for Harvey. He knew Mike’s childhood had been tough, but he'd assumed there were still trips, that he still had vacations with his family or road trips with Trevor. He realized then that no, there hadn’t been any. They were travelling to Hawaii for their one year anniversary (Harvey had surprised Mike with the trip, and even though he'd told Mike a month ago he can still feel Mike's fingers digging into his hips from when they'd fucked afterwards, Mike a frenzied mess in his arms) and he was still learning things about Mike.

It didn't scare him. On the contrary, he'd never been happier.

"So," Harvey says after several content minutes of listening to Mike idly playing a song, a different one this time, "breakfast or swim?"

Mike rakes his eyes over Harvey's body and then grins, saying, "Swim. Definitely."

Harvey would make token protests about being ogled, but he wouldn't know whether he would be the pot or kettle in that scenario, given how often he has to remind himself - _at work_ \- not to check out his associate in those ridiculous skinny suits that make Mike look so fucking delectable. So when Mike turns away to put the ukulele safely behind the chaise where Harvey sits, it's all too easy to slide a hand around the back of Mike's neck when Mike looks back at him, to close the gap between them, pressing their mouths together. Mike tastes like the salty sea he's been swimming in, even when Harvey kisses deeper, tangling their tongues together in a way that makes Mike moan.

Harvey eases back into the chaise, bringing Mike with him, and Mike's palms have gone to Harvey's chest to steady himself but they soon move to caress and explore rather than support. Harvey kisses along Mike's jaw line, feels the slight scrape of stubble against his mouth and tongue. When he makes it to the hinge of Mike's jaw, he whispers, "Or we could just skip the swimming."

"Fuck yes," Mike replies, shifting his body so he can straddle Harvey's thighs, bending to press a wet, open mouthed kiss to the center of Harvey's chest. He scrapes his teeth lightly against the skin before kissing his way across and swirling a tongue around Harvey's nipple. Harvey's fingers dig into Mike's thighs and his back arches off the chaise and they really need to move this inside right the fuck now. Mike doesn't seem to be too concerned about moving yet though, kissing up Harvey's chest at a near torturous rate, and when he finally meets Harvey's mouth Harvey slides his fingers through the hair at the back of Mike's head, gripping slightly.

"Inside," Harvey manages to say between kisses, Mike's mouth insistent against his own.

Mike nods, finally pulling back and climbing off Harvey's lap. They don't even bother closing the French doors behind them, Harvey just keeping their fingers entwined as they cross the room to the bed.

Harvey drops his sheet when they stand at the foot of the now starkly empty bed, kissing Mike as his hands go to Mike's board shorts, pushing them down his hips until they pool at his feet. Mike's hands gently cradle Harvey's face, his thumb lightly stroking the skin back and forth. They don't break away even as Harvey lowers Mike onto the bed, the flush of warm and naked skin finally meeting making Harvey sigh in contentment.

It's not hurried. They've done that already. The first two days they were here, every time they fucked it was fast and desperate, as though they were somehow worried that this wasn't real, that they were going to wake up back in New York on a typical Tuesday in June. Not that there's anything wrong with a bit of frantic sex now and again. Mike still has a mark on his neck from their first night here, when they didn't even make it to the bed and Harvey bit down as he thrust wildly into him as they fucked against the wall. It looks amazing.

But it's different this time. Harvey drapes himself over Mike's body, entwining their fingers together and pressing their clasped hand into the mattress as they kiss slowly, as though that in itself was the goal, their mouths moving like liquid. Harvey would be content staying like this forever, because he still remembers with a sharp bitterness back before, before this thing between them started, how it felt thinking that this was something he didn't think he could have, could deserve. Though the balance of power might be on his side at work, Harvey is the one that needed to deserve Mike, not the other way around.

Suddenly overwhelmed with all the love he possess rising to the surface, Harvey stops kissing him, presses his forehead to Mike's and just breathes.

"Everything okay?" Mike asks, voice laced with concern.

Harvey takes a moment, just one, to breathe in the scent of Mike, of them, to gather his wits about him, before he nods. He presses his mouth to Mike's in a simple kiss before pulling back, looking at Mike properly, drinking his features in, his bright blue eyes and kiss-swollen lips, not to mention his skin, usually beautifully pale but right now flushed with pink.

Mike reaches up with his free hand, the tips of his fingers lightly tracing the thin line of Harvey's mouth for a moment. "I love you." Mike says it in a way that makes it sound brand new, like it's a confession, not something that Harvey knows down to his bones and is thankful for every waking moment of the day.

Harvey's answer is to kiss Mike in the hollow of his throat, to trace fingertips over each ridge of Mike's ribs, to lick over his hips, to wrap his fingers around Mike's cock. Words are important, Harvey knows, but sometimes he talks so much better without them.

It's so very tempting, with his hand gliding up and down Mike's length, the younger man lifting his hips ever so slightly to fuck up into the Harvey's fist, to get Mike off like this. He could do it easily. Mike's body is as familiar to him as his own, and it would be a nice echo of their first time, when he had Mike splayed out on his bed, naked and writhing, and everything was so new and exciting that Mike came just from Harvey's hand. It's not new anymore, hasn't been for a while, but it's still exciting, it still does something to Harvey, having Mike laid out for him like this, knowing that Mike trusts and wants him above all others.

So yes, it's tempting, and he does genuinely consider it. But he wants more. He always does, when it comes to Mike, wants everything, wants so wholeheartedly and with such earnestness that sometimes Harvey wonders what he did with his life before Mike came along. He wants to feel Mike everywhere, wants to bury himself deep within his warmth and know that they're completely connected in every way.

He gives Mike's cock one last tug, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the younger man, before he presses his mouth to Mike's stomach, below his navel and above his groin, the skin soft and sensitive. Mike's fingers thread through his hair as he sighs happily.

"What do you want?" Harvey murmurs against his skin.

Mike doesn't reply straight away. Whether it's because he's considering his options or he's just incapable of speech Harvey isn't sure. Mike's stomach flutters beneath his mouth and Harvey's mouth quirks into a hidden smile. 

When he eventually looks up Mike doesn't hesitate, hands hooking around his neck and guiding him up. Harvey goes willingly, their mouths crashing together just as their bodies do. Harvey rolls his hips slowly, more slowly than he normally would, unconsciously echoing the rhythm of the beach outside. Mike seems content for them to just lie there, making out and rutting against each other like teenagers, but then he pushes, rolls them over so he's on top, and he tells Harvey, "I wanna ride you," before plunging his tongue back into Harvey's mouth.

Harvey is completely on board with this plan. But even with the decision made, there's no rush. Harvey grasps the lube from its home on the bedside table, and Mike shifts up onto his knees, giving Harvey the room to slide his hand between them, teasing him with slicked up fingers. There's a fluttering of eyelids and a contented sigh when Harvey gently presses in, and Harvey can't look away. The prep is easy and quick (they're _on vacation_ in _Hawaii_ for their _one year anniversary_ \- pretty much their main activity since their arrival has been sex) but Harvey isn't just doing this as a prelude to something more. He loves the slick slide feel of his fingers as they move in Mike, how Mike's body opens up for him. He could do this all day, listening to the sounds he makes, more melodic and enthralling than Harvey's favorite jazz music.

Mike's the one to get impatient, to push on Harvey's arm until he removes it, to line up their bodies and sink down onto Harvey, to rest there for just a moment while they both bask in the quiet hush of connection. He smiles down at Harvey like he's just come home and never wants to leave. Harvey returns the smile, and as though that was what he'd been waiting for, Mike starts to move, rolling his hips, lengthening his body up and down, all sinewy movements that drive Harvey crazy.

It's simple really. They move together with the ease that can only come from two people who love and trust each other without reservation. He doesn't even really need to think, not with Mike in control, pressing in just how he wants to, keeping to a rhythm Harvey can easily follow. It gives Harvey the chance to just look, to drink his fill, to notice all the little details that he too often doesn't have the time to appreciate. His gaze wanders everywhere: Mike's parted lips as his tongue sweeps across them, the long line of his neck, the bob of his Adam's apple, the curve of his neck, the small scar on his belly, just below his ribs, from when he had an operation on his kidney. All tiny details, all small parts that add up to an incredible whole, a whole that Harvey never wants to be without.

"I love you," Harvey blurts, not even realizing he's said it until it's too late.

Harvey doesn't normally say those three little words like this, when they're in the middle of having sex, because too often those words are spoken in the haze of the rushed endorphins of sex and they don't mean anything, not really. He doesn't want that, he wants Mike to believe him every time he says it, to know that he means it.

Mike smiles indulgently at him, like he knows exactly what Harvey's thinking. He leans down, kisses Harvey. He braces himself with his elbows and forearms on the bed on either side of Harvey so he can press his whole body as close as possible to Harvey without breaking their connection. The new position returns some of the control to Harvey. It's part of that give and take, the ever changing balance between them, the way they still push and pull at each other.

Harvey thrusts into Mike at a slightly increasing pace, and Mike meets every one. It's difficult to keep kissing with their bodies moving like this, but they won't stop trying. 

He likes the laziness, the languid movements, the slow but steady build of arousal coursing through his veins. Mike's cock rubs against his stomach with every movement, a constant presence, utterly distracting in every way. He can't hold out any longer, needs to get his hand on it. So he does, slipping a hand between them, Mike rising up just enough to let him. He slides his hand up and down, matches the rhythm their bodies have set.

It's by no means inconsequential, the way they both come - Mike's gasp as he spills between them, Harvey's aborted thrusts when he cries out, the heavy breathing filling the quiet space, Mike not moving and keeping them joined for a good long while - but it's also not the point. It's amazing, that moment of crescendo, the way the world seems to focus down to just the two of them, their pulses aligning and muscles tautening and hands gripping. But what really matters is what comes afterwards. It's Mike collapsing onto Harvey, both of them slick with sweat, Harvey's arms wrapping around him. It's the complete stillness of it all, the way nothing else matters, not one thing. Their lives are hectic, and that's on a good day, and this, this moment of serenity, where he knows that nothing in the world exists outside of them, where he feels wrung out in the best possible way, _this_ is the point. It's a gift, one Mike gives him as much as he gives to Mike, that they can both just stop thinking and block out the world and _know_ that absolutely _nothing_ matters other than the two of them.

Harvey would like to remain like this, forever, but even he needs to bow to the reality of the situation sooner or later. Pressing a kiss to Mike's damp forehead, he extracts himself carefully, slides out from under Mike and stumbles to the bathroom. He cleans himself quickly, then brings the washcloth back with him for Mike. When he approaches the bed he considers whether to pick up the sheet to drape over them but in the end leaves it on the floor, cleaning Mike up with a few quick strokes while Mike looks up adoringly at him. He tosses the cloth back into the bathroom before sliding back onto the bed.

They arrange themselves easily. They both lie on their sides facing each other, legs tangled messily together, Harvey resting his head on a bent arm while his other slides over Mike's hip. 

He's content.

Harvey doesn't even realize that he's closed his eyes until they're opening again at the feel of Mike sliding a hand through his hair. He opens his eyes to see Mike grinning at him, and the younger man says, "Did I tell you how much I like this?"

Harvey's been growing his hair out slightly, and just last week he dyed it back to dark brown. His lips quirk into an easy smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. It reminds me of when we first met."

It wasn't a conscious decision, but now that he's said it Harvey realizes this is exactly how he wore it when they first met. "Feels like a lifetime ago."

Mike looks at him fondly. "It was."

Harvey kisses him then, because how could he not, and Mike just takes the kiss as his due. He keeps threading his fingers through Harvey's hair, again and again, and Harvey's so focused on the touch that he almost misses Mike saying, "Can I ask you something?"

Harvey furrows his eyebrows, wondering why Mike even needs to preface any question with a request for permission, confused as to why Mike's voice was slightly uneven, as if he was nervous about it. "Of course," Harvey tells him, like it should be obvious.

"I was just wondering… We've somehow managed to go a year without talking about it, but I was just curious about why it was you finally decided to give up the single life for me. I mean," he continues quickly, before Harvey has the chance to answer, "we danced around each other for a long time, and then when we got together I was too happy to question the why of it all. But when it eventually happened it still kinda came out of nowhere, like something happened to push you, and I was just wondering what it was."

Mike isn't wrong. Something did happen, something completely ordinary and innocuous that hit Harvey right in the chest, tilting his world view completely. Harvey doesn't mind Mike knowing. In fact, he probably deserves to.

"Well," Harvey says, clearing his throat slightly, "it was during the Lang case, remember?" Mike nods. "We'd had that all-nighter at my place, going through I don't even remember how many boxes of paperwork-"

"Sixteen," Mike says, and Harvey grins, because of course Mike remembers.

"Right, sixteen boxes of contracts and forms and licenses, and it must've been after four when we both gave up, falling asleep right there on my couch. When I woke up a few hours later I was still exhausted, with a god-awful crick in my neck and basically feeling like shit. But then I looked over and there you were. We were sprawled on the couch, both of us still in rumpled suits, not even touching, and I knew that waking up with you was better than going to bed with anyone else. I wanted that, you, on my couch, in my life, every day. I already knew it, I'd just tried to ignore it. But I couldn't after that. I'd had just a glimpse of what our life could be like, and it made me want more."

Mike's hand stops its ministrations and Harvey knows that whatever Mike had been expecting him to say, that wasn't it. He tilts his head back slightly and just looks at Harvey, considering, like he's trying to assimilate this information into the context of everything he already knows about Harvey. He's never seen that expression on Mike's face before, and Harvey imagines it would be a near perfect mirror of how Harvey looked at Mike back on the plane. He's realizing and accepting that he still doesn't know everything about Harvey, that Harvey can still surprise him after all this time.

Mike doesn't say anything in reply, just shifts forward and kisses him, slots their mouths together and gently presses in, and Harvey welcomes the deepening, moving his lips in perfect contrast to Mike's. It's a kiss with a specific meaning, one they are both unequivocal in their agreement upon. It says that it's okay that they don't know everything about each other, because they have a whole lifetime to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> The last section of the fic was inspired by the quote: _Most people spend their time trying to find someone to sleep with, instead of finding someone worth waking up to_. I thought it worked well for them. :O)


End file.
